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Sir Guy straightened his back and glanced behind him at the column of weary men that followed. The horses plodded, elasticity worn from their muscles by hour after hour of movement, jarring the riders, who were nearly too tired to groan. He turned his eyes ahead, noting nervously that he could scarcely see the nearby curve in the road. It was beyond dusk, very nearly true night. His eyes shortened their focus. Just a horse length ahead, Lady Alinor's sturdy mare still moved steadily. Sir Guy set spurs to his stallion's side, then prodded a bit harder to encourage the horse's leaden response. |
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Her head turned alertly. Sir Guy could not see her expression, and in the dark her white skin glimmered palelyat least, Guy assured himself, it should be pale with exhaustion. |
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"My lady, it is nigh dark. We must stop and make camp." |
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"Stop?" She put her hand to Pepper's neck as if to judge its resilience, then glanced around at the road. "Are the horses too weary to go on at all? Have any failed?" |
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"We are all weary, horses and men, but I am most concerned with you, my lady. You will be sick if you do not rest." |
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"I?" Alinor sounded stunned, and then laughed. "I rode with the queenthe great queen, I mean, not the painted puppet we have now. I crossed the Pyrenees on the wild goat trails, and I crossed the Alps in midwinter. |
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